Escape
by Amiyrasmom
Summary: Mycroft has Moriarty. Or does he? Honey 'Verse


**Disclaimer: They're still not mine, unfortunately. Oh and I make no money from these stories. You thought I did? More fool you then.**

Escape

He was fuming. This was intolerable. How dare that jumped up soldier marry, _marry_, his Sherlock. It had to be the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Sherlock was a _sociopath_, for God's sake. He didn't have emotions. He couldn't possibly love that ugly, stupid, little man. How had that idiot talked Sherlock into marrying him?

Oh, that nasty soldier was going to pay. Pay for touching what he had no right to touch. Pay in pain and fear and blood. He would make sure that Dr. John Watson's last moments were filled with terror. It was only right after all. Dr. Watson didn't deserve Sherlock. No one deserved Sherlock except him.

Then there was the brother. Who knew that a minor government official could wield so much power? His informants had claimed that Sherlock and his brother weren't close. Well, that obviously wasn't true, now was it? Big brother had come to the rescue and stolen his prize. He would pay too. Sherlock would help him get his revenge as soon as he was conditioned and had everything explained in a logical, dispassionate manner.

Sherlock would of course have to be punished for allowing that dirty, nasty soldier to touch him. But he'd get over the deserved punishment soon enough. He would come to see that James Moriarty was the only person in the world who could understand him. Was the only one that could ever possibly make him happy. But for now, Jim was looking forward to the punishment. Sherlock would make such pretty screams under his whip.

Shaking off the daydreams Moriarty glared around the small room where he was held prisoner. This really was intolerable. He hated being in small spaces. Reminded him far too much of his mother's trunk. No one had come to see him then either, no matter how long his punishment was. He snarled at the walls and door. He would not allow himself to be locked up anymore. He was not a child.

The scraping of the door against the concrete floor brought his attention out of his memories and back into the small cell. He shifted his fulminating glare from the wall to the figure entering the cell.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Moriarty," the smooth, cultured voice of the brother washed over him.

"Is it?" The hoarseness of his own voice surprised him.

Mycroft Holmes made a tsking sound. "Oh, my. That doesn't sound very good, Mr. Moriarty." He turned to the black suited man behind him. "Bring a pot of tea, will you, Agent?"

"Of course, Mr. Holmes," the man said and departed only for another black suited man to take his place at Mycroft's back.

Mycroft turned back to Moriarty. "Now then, Mr. Moriarty, I thought the two of us should have a little chat." Mycroft stepped to the side of the small room as two men carried in a table and another brought a chair. The table was set down before Moriarty with the chair placed on the other side.

Moriarty watched with calculating eyes as Mycroft seated himself at the table and leant his umbrella against it. "About…" he paused at the croak coming from his mouth and cleared his throat. "About what?"

Mycroft smiled pleasantly. "Oh, a great many things, I suspect. Where you obtained the Semtex you strapped to my brother-in-law and the others? What are the names of the people working with you? What were your ultimate plans for my brother? What were your ultimate plans period? You see, Mr. Moriarty, a great many things."

Moriarty sent the man a glare that he hoped conveyed all the hate he felt. "Do you really believe that I'll answer any of those questions?"

Mycroft only smiled. The door opened again and the agent sent for tea entered. He set the tea service on the table and backed away. "Thank you, Joshua," Mycroft said without ever taking his eyes from Moriarty. "I'll play mother, shall I?" Not waiting for a response he poured the tea into two cups and passed one over. "The pot's not poisoned," he assured Moriarty. "See?" He took a sip of his own tea and then made a disgusted face. "Forgot the sugar." He carefully dropped two lumps in and then took another sip. "Much better."

Moriarty watched him cautiously for a few silent minutes and then took his own cup of tea and brought it to his lips for a sip. When the dark beverage hit his lips he nearly moaned in bliss and drained the cup.

Mycroft's lips creased in an indulgent smile and he waved his tea cup at the pot in invitation. Moriarty poured himself another cup and settled himself back on the bed. "I'm not going to give you the answers you seek, Holmes."

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I think you will," he said darkly. "You see, Mr. Moriarty, you tried to hurt my brother by killing the man who has been there for him every day since he was born. You led him a merry chase around his city and all the time you were planning on blowing up my brother-in-law. I am not a forgiving man, Mr. Moriarty. Family is the most important thing in my life and you tried to destroy what little family I have left." Moriarty glared at him again but he couldn't seem to quite catch his breath. It was as though a fist was slowly squeezing his lungs. Mycroft smiled an ice cold, menacing smile. "Feeling the effects are you? Yes. You would be. I didn't poison the pot, Mr. Moriarty, but I never said anything about your tea cup."

Moriarty's eyes widened and he fell back on the cot, gasping in distress and unable to pull any air into his lungs. "You…you…"

Mycroft stood. "I told you I am not a forgiving man, Mr. Moriarty. However you are lucky that John and Sherlock allowed me to deal with you. They are even more unforgiving than I am when it comes to threats on each other." He turned away from the writhing gasping dead man on the cot. "Dispose of the garbage, Joshua."

"Yes sir, Mr. Holmes," were the last words Moriarty heard as the blackness engulfed his vision and he slumped, limp on the cot.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

He blinked his eyes open and stared bemused at the white ceiling and white walls? What the Hell?

"Boss?" A male voice said beside him. A familiar male voice. "You awake, Boss?"

"Seb?" He croaked out. He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth and suddenly there was a glass of water with a straw before him. He drank greedily. Once he finished he eyed his second in command. "What happened, Seb?"

"Our informant in Mycroft Holmes's office replaced the poison with a mild paralytic that mimics death for twelve hours. Then we just had to wait until they disposed of your body and rescued you. We brought you here and flushed the paralytic from your system. No one knows you're still alive outside of our organization, Boss."

A slow smile spread across Moriarty's face. "Brilliant," he breathed and then dark, delighted laughed echoed around the white hospital room.

**A/N: There Moriarty got away and will be back to trouble our boys again later. Though really he should listen to Mycroft's warning. Sherlock and John are not nearly as nice as Mycroft.**


End file.
